The English ambassador notes in 1619, "The poor man sometimes
comes to my house and is as full of vanity as ever he was, making
himself believe that he shall one day be a great prince." It might
indeed seem a long road from Wiston under the Downs to the Gulf of
Guinea, the Quays of Venice, Constantinople, the Euphrates, Babylon,
Moscow, Prague, Rome, and Morocco, to die at last a beggar in purse,
but in heart a great Prince in Madrid.
Now, when I had been reminded of all this, I was directed to visit
Buncton Chapel to the north of Wiston Park, where I found indeed some
Norman work in the nave and chancel arch. And so I went on my way
through the failing afternoon by that beautiful road within sight of
the high Downs to the Washington Inn, where I slept, for it is a quiet
place not to be passed by.
And on the morrow I went on my way, still through as fair a country as
is to be found in all South England, through Storrington, and so by way
of Parham Park, with its noble Elizabethan house and little church with
the last leaden font in Sussex, a work of the fourteenth century, to
Amberley in the meads of the Arun, a dear and beautiful place.
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